“Sure. I also have a bottle of wine in the fridge if you want to open it?” I ask, but Ellie stands before I can.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she says, walking toward the kitchen.
I pull my phone out, scrolling through a few notifications, and I roll my eyes when I see there’s a request from Jack to send me a direct message. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.
“I think this is the dinner of champions,” Ellie jokes over the sound of the popcorn kernels popping in the microwave.
I turn my phone off, deciding against reading the message from Jack when there’s a knock at the door. “Are you expecting anyone?” I ask, but Ellie looks confused too, taking her phone out of her pocket to check.
“Oh, I think it’s Coop. He sent me a text earlier asking if I was home, and I never responded,” she says, shooting an apologetic smile in my direction. “Is it okay if I see what he wants?”
“Go for it,” I say because I really don’t mind her brother. He’s a little intimidating at first because of his height and the way he carries himself, but despite being a man of few words, he’s nice—for a hockey player, that is.
“Door’s open,” Ellie calls out, opening the microwave at the same time my phone chimes with a text from Macy, and I’m distracted when the door opens. “What are you doing?” she asks,and I jerk my head up, my mouth falling open in surprise at the sight of Jack shutting the door behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Heard you say ‘door’s open,’ implying it was fine to come in,” he says, his mouth tilting into a smile before his gaze lands on me. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Don’t call me that,” I say, frowning immediately.
His smile widens, a dimple peeking out. “Does it bother you?”
“Why are you here?” I say, ignoring the question. Is he really standing in our apartmentagain?
Jack takes off his backpack and takes a seat at the counter. “It’s Tuesday. Pretty sure we have a tutoring session,” Jack says, taking his time to enunciate every word as if I don’t understand.
Ellie’s eyebrows skyrocket, giving me a bewildered look, but I don’t have any clue what’s going on. I thought we covered this yesterday after class.
“There is no tutoring, Jack. I literally only said it to save my ass with my dad. Pick any of the other girls fawning over you in Comp II, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I say, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m not fine,” he argues, and even if he’s not, isn’t there anyone else Jack can go to for help?
“Look, if this is some type of punishment you’re trying to subject me to because of how I rated our kiss, it was better than a three,” I admit, causing Jack’s smile to slip for a moment, and his posture straightens.
“Forget it, this was a bad idea,” he says, shaking his head, and I’m wondering if maybe I’ve misjudged the cocky hockey player. “I didn’t come here to make out with you. I actually do need help with Comp II, but you’re right, why would I ask you when I have everyone else falling over my feet?” Jack says, a hint of bitterness bleeding into his rich voice.
Ellie gives me a pleading look as Jack grabs his bag, and her puppy dog eyes are a lethal weapon.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, caving to her silent request. Jack appears skeptical as he freezes his movements, and I realize I have to say more than an apology. “You don’t have to go.”
“Is that an invitation to stay? Because if it is, it might be the least enthusiastic one I’ve ever gotten.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and Ellie clears her throat. “Jack, please do yourself a favor and stop talking before Al changes her mind,” she says, taking the popcorn out of the microwave to shake the bag.
“Hey, Ellie,” he says, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Is it cool if I borrow your roommate for a bit?” he asks, flashing a smile in her direction.
“As long as you remember what we talked about last time, okay?”
What did they talk about last time? You know what, it doesn’t even matter.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replies smartly, offering her a little salute.
Shit, I want to know what they talked about.
Ellie looks at me, raising her eyebrows in question. “Do I need to supervise or can you be nice?”
“I can be nice,” I protest, feeling my cheeks flame bright red. At least, I think I can.
She sticks her tongue out at me, putting the wine back in the fridge. “Sure, well while you try to be nice, I’m going to go eat this popcorn in my room. Jack, give us a heads up before showing up next time.”
